Nevermore
by LifeofaWarLord
Summary: Grace is a waitress in Small-town, USA. It's taken some time, but Grace has achieved a certain level of normalcy. This is something she takes pride in. She figured she'd never have to face the things that go bump in the night — or the people that hunt them. A chance meeting with a certain pair of hunters effectively tosses that dream out of the window. Dean x OC


**AN:** Hello all! This story begins at the very end of season 3. Changed a few things around, but will mostly stick to canon for a while. Then, the story will go wherever the wind takes it. As always, reviews/critiques are welcome. Happy reading!

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_New Harmony, Indiana  
May 1st, 2008_

"So Grace, how's the pie here?"

The young woman smiled her very best faux smile at her costumers. The pair, a couple, sat in front of her expectantly. The guy had been ogling at her the entire time she served them. His girlfriend obviously didn't care about herself, as she sat in the seat across from him as if it was Grace's fault he was being a complete ass. Instead of cussing out her shithead boyfriend, she asked Grace about the pie as if she'd never heard of a pie in her life. Not only that, but the waitress would need to present the concept of pie in a grand inspirational speech in order to receive her tip.

Grace fought the urge to roll her eyes, gave the stupid pie pitch and scooted off towards her other table. Two men were seated at the very last set of booths. They looked around her age, both tall and offensively cute. One was serving 1990s Calvin Klein and the other looked like everything like she'd imagined the 'Good Country Boy' would. They'd spent the 45 minutes they'd been there shooing her away, stating they hadn't decided on their orders just yet. Grace didn't ever think they would, because whatever they were discussing seemed to take precedence over eating. But it was almost an hour into their debate, and her boss gave the signal that if they weren't ordering anything in the next twenty minutes they'd have to go elsewhere to talk it out. One of the other waitresses, a tall redhead named Liz, pulled her off to the side.

"Hell of a waste if you ask me." Confused, Grace looked at her for further explanation. Liz shrugged, then tilted her head to the two bickering guys at the end.

"Obviously, they're having a lover's quarrel! Ya know, boyfriend boyfriend?" Grace rolled her dark brown eyes as hard as she could.

"You think any man who doesn't stop whatever he's doing long enough to let you sniff his dick is gay." Liz didn't bat an eyelash, just laughed and gave her biggest shrug.

"Wouldn't you? Now,"she patted Grace on the butt,"go over there and get that truth tea!" Grace made a groan, shooing her friend away. She_ hated_ that phrase, and Liz couldn't seem to get enough of it. 'Tea', 'yas', 'shade' and anything else the redhead happened to catch on RuPaul's Drag Race was under heavy rotation in their day-to-day interactions.

_Extended cable packages are the worst thing to happen to this place in years._

The taller of the two men saw her approaching and changed his demeanor accordingly. He graced her with a small, polite smile and retrieved his menu from the table. Talking long strides, she came to the head of the table.

"So, how can I help the two of you?"

In her peripheral, she caught a glimpse of someone sit in the next booth over. She turned momentarily and then abruptly turned her head back. The monstrous face didn't catch her knowing look, focused on tearing his napkin to pieces. This was one of many demons she'd seen here in town for the past few days. They stank like sulfur, ugly underneath whatever human face they happened to be wearing. Grace had always been able to see them, been taught all about them, but learned the hard way it was best to avoid them. The brunette man piped up first. She missed whatever he said, trying to fix her face in it's default 'nice charming waitress who deserves a decent tip' setting. While she was busy composing the smallest give aways on her face, he cleared his throat politely.

"Standard burger and fries. Uh, I would like a beer too please." She nodded, scribbling his order on her notes. She fixed her dark eyes on the blond. He hadn't looked up even once, and he didn't seem particularly interested in anything on the menu. She glanced back at his friend. He shrugged apologetically, the picture of remorse for his friends sour behavior. Grace nodded her head patiently as the blond suddenly became aware of the fact he was in a diner and he was being pretty weird.

"You want anything, mister?" she asked. He gave her a sidelong glance before looking to his companion.

"Pie. The biggest slice you have. Actually...just give me the whole damn thing." He turned to her and gave her his best smile. And it was pretty damned good too, all white teeth and charm.

_H. Christ he's cute..._

It didn't reach his eyes though. Those looked like the hadn't seen a good night's sleep in weeks.

Lack of sleep didn't deter him from giving her a quick once over before flashing her another quick smile. She wrote his order down, looking up just long enough to see the FBI badge flash on his lap. She raised her brow at the fake badge but said nothing as she walked off to the kitchen. She felt the heat of Mr. Uglyface's, the demon, eyes on her ass. The waitress knew it didn't know she could _really_ see it, but feeling it's eye on her was like dull needles scraping up her spine.

She gave the cook their order and retreated to the bathroom. Once inside, she contemplated the most recent turn of events.

There'd been a few deaths in the area, family murders.

Pretty gruesome too. Cops were saying it was a string of home invasions. She'd already figured it had to have been the work of supes. There were more than the usual one or two in the area, and the killings didn't start until the town started smelling like sulfur. And she knew - well, assumed- that the FBI had little to no interest in a string of murders in Small-town, USA. She made it a point to be well-read on current events- there wasn't a rash of family murders in other states in recent months or even in the past year. That, and her parents popped into enough random towns masquerading as various government officials for her to know hunters when she saw them.

So, what was she going to do about?

She never interfered in anything monster-related. Ever. She'd seen how that worked out for her folks. It was rare for her to see monsters on this scale, let alone demons of all things. On the other hand, she didn't want to hear a "if you know what's out there, why aren't you out there fighting?" lecture. Even though those two probably had their hands full chasing demons, Gracelyn knew they'd make time to tell her she was a coward. On the other hand, she lived here. Not for much longer, but still. She'd spent the past couple of years in New Harmony. She liked it here, and as much as Liz's appropriation of Ballroom Culture irked her very soul, she was a swell friend and occasional bedmate. But it wasn't like Grace could just go over there and point those dudes in the direction of the demon- he would definitely hear the conversation and then he'd raise hell in the diner right there.

Grace looked herself over in the mirror, tucking a strand of curly black hair behind a brown ear. She'd been on her own for almost five years, and she had stuck to the same cardinal rule that she wished her parents abided by - don't get involved. And she was about to ruin that over a friend with benefits?

_A great one with a nice ass and long fingers and..._ Grace shook her head furiously, grumbling under her breath. Running a hand through her curly mass of hair, she paced the bathroom floor nervously. She'd been with plenty of people before Liz - but she'd never lived in a town being overrun with demons. One or two was a bit much for her, so anything over that was a goddamned infestation in her mind. Grace was moving to Sioux Falls in a few weeks, but she'd sleep better knowing the townspeople - and Liz - were safe from being murdered by a demon troupe.

_Deep breath girl. Be calm. You are smart, intelligent, and **obviously** damned compassionate_, She consoled herself, scribbling a secret note for the duo outside. She marched outside of the bathroom, shivering as Mr. Uglyface bumped shoulders with her. The brown-haired man began to curl his lips in that same smile, but stopped at the look on her face. She slid her note on the table and walked off again. Behind her, she heard both men get up and briskly walk outside.

"Hey! Where the hell are they going? They're food's almost out!" Grace turned and shrugged at her boss's question, taking a fry out of what would have been the brunette's plate. She nibbled on it gently as she struggled to control her shaking form.

xXx

_Son of a bitch._

She knew this would happen. Walking to her battered pick-up, she spotted a shining black muscle car parked alongside it. It was running and she could make out two burly forms inside. The dusky Indiana sky began to form the first stars of the evening as she tried to breathe steadily. If, by some freakish chance, the demon found out she'd been the one who snitched, they would have definitely killed her by now.

They wouldn't be waiting to snatch her into a sweet ass car with out of state plates.

Which meant that it was those two hunters from earlier that afternoon waiting for her. Grace slipped her fingers through the silver-lined brass knuckles she kept on her keychain. Then, she fished around her bag for her switchblade.

Just in case.

"Can I help you two?" She said as evenly as she could muster. Grace continued to play it safe, giving the car a wide berth and scanning her own vehicle for any surprises. She stood looking at the pair from over the flat bed of her truck. The blond was in the drivers seat giving her a glare that implied lying would be met with violence.

"How'd you know that guy was a demon?" The question wasn't actually a question - it was very gruff demand. It was kind of intimidating. Grace's mouth curled up into a shaky smile as she tried to calm her nerves and put on her best steely voice.

_I bet he can do one hell of a Batman impression._

"I just did. Same way I knew you two were hunters." There was a flash of metal, and Grace nearly fell over at the sight of the pistol pointed at her.

"I'm not a damn supe!" she half-whispered, half-howled. Blondie eyes narrowed to slits. He didn't immediately shoot her dead, so Grace figured this was her one and only chance to explain herself.

"My parents hunted. I've seen enough fake FBI, CIA, and Homeland Security badges to last a lifetime." She paused, thinking of how to explain the demon."Our cook is a horror movie buff. Learned the Roman ritual from _the Exorcist_ and can recite it backwards and forwards. He said Cristo a couple times, and the dude flinched every single time." She had never seen the Exorcist, and never asked Tom - the cook- if he did. It didn't matter. It was a bad lie, but it'd have to do.

Grace looked away from the blond long enough to catch his companion's face. It was perplexed, a little sympathetic. He met her gaze and opened his mouth to speak.

"I'm Sam Winchester. This is my brother, Dean." He waited for Dean to lower his weapon. Dean didn't immediately do so, so Sam reached over and pressed his arm down and back into the car. Grace let her body relax a little.

"I'm Gracelyn Slick. Grace for short." That earned her a full on snort from Dean, and a half smile from Sam.

"You're serious?" Dean asked, lips curling into a grin. Grace rolled her eyes, suddenly very annoyed. Now that her heart wasn't beating in her ears, she could hear Ted Nugent playing softly on car's radio.

"Jefferson Airplane? Or worse still, Jefferson Starship?"

_Just a minute ago he was ready to shoot me right between the eyes and now he's making fun of me? Crazy bastard._ Even though she felt in her heart this man was insane - as most hunters surely were - she felt it necessary to defend her name. Gracelyn had been her grandmother's name, and her father's last name was Slick. Her mom , being proud of her time at Woodstock, was overjoyed at the happy coincidence. There'd been many times where her mother told Grace that she was conceived while an _After Bathing at Baxters_ vinyl played.

"First of all, Jefferson Airplane was great. Second, we don't acknowledge Jefferson Starship as ever having been a thing. Third, you're un-ironically listening to friggin Ted Nugent. Who the hell died and crowned you the authority on music?"

His smile soured. Grace could physically see him thinking of some half-assed quip to shoot back at her. Sam interrupted with an amused, but sad expression on his face. Like interrupting his brother's taunts hurt a little. As fast as it came, his glum air was replaced by a deadpan one.

"Grace, we didn't come here to cause trouble. We wanted to thank you. See, my brother and I came here looking for crossroads demon-" Grace grimaced at that.

_That explains the bittersweet puppy dog look._

She didn't like that the dark-haired Winchester was sharing the details of their hunt with her, and she really didn't want to know about whatever crossroad demon they'd gotten tangled up with. Deals with demons were always paid in full _and_ with interest. Why any hunters worth their salt would even entertain the idea let alone actually do a crossroads deal was beyond her.

Either they were new, stupid, or desperate. All three options made Grace regret taking the time to write them that note. She waved her hand to signal him into silence. New, stupid, or desperate was dangerous- they could end getting her killed.

"I don't wanna know which one of you was dumb or desperate enough to get into bed with demons. I hope that guy from the diner helped you out." She climbed into her car and started the engine. She looked over at the brothers with a forced and awkward smile. She did hope they could get out of their deal, but she wasn't confident that they'd be able to. Her face softened a bit, more genuine and somber.

"I wish you guys the best. Happy hunting," she called before reversing smoothly out of her parking spot and driving out of the lot. Streetlights came to life as the sky held more stars than sunlight. Grace popped a Marvin Gaye album into her disk player, shaken. Today was the furthest she ever wished to go in terms of hunter-related things. The fact she was moving in a few weeks brought her a faint glimmer of solace.

Being at home with the devil's traps crudely painted all over her rinky dink little trailer helped her forget the Winchesters long enough to find deep, dreamless sleep.


End file.
